


Crossing Paths

by PhantomWriter



Series: Time I'll Never Know [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Episode: s07e03 The Girl Next Door, F/M, First Love, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Puppy Love, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriter/pseuds/PhantomWriter
Summary: In 1998, a fifteen-year-old Sam Winchester meets a pretty red-haired woman with alluring green eyes.He's partly convinced she's magic.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod & Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Series: Time I'll Never Know [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581745
Comments: 18
Kudos: 108





	Crossing Paths

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of the flashback featured in Season 7 Episode 03 "The Girl Next Door".

**Lincoln, Nebraska 1998**

Sam scratches his head for the umpteenth time and puffs out an annoyed sigh. He chucks the worn Japanese Dictionary back to his backpack and thinks he won’t be able to finish the translation in time.

_People are dying,_ Dad and Dean say as they reiterate that they need to know a solution to kill the _kitsune_ they’re hunting. Fast. As if Sam doesn’t know the gravity of the situation at hand. 

They tend to put him in the sidelines, which Sam often finds for the best since he doesn’t really see himself having the same vocation to hunting the same way Dean is, but it also means that they frequently belittle his efforts in research. They don’t do the same to Uncle Bobby because he’s equally good as a field hunter and, oh, Uncle Bobby’s an adult with experience.

Sam isn’t like Uncle Bobby because he’s a fifteen-year-old.

He slams the untranslated Japanese book close and curses at the bad weather that won’t even let him reach the public library dry along with the old books he can no longer fit in his threadbare bag. Sam waits under the shed for the rain to let up—which clearly isn’t about to happen anytime soon.

Sam clutches the books on his lap, curling his wiry frame to himself and completely misses the person who sits beside him. 

What alerts him is the scent of lavender that pervades the air and rises above the petrichor. 

Sam turns to his left and finds a woman with long, braided, red hair and wearing a navy blue dress. 

That first thing Sam actually notices is that she's really, really, pretty. 

Sam suddenly feels self-conscious. His last shower was from yesterday, and he often sweats under the flannel Dean outgrew. He's carrying a body spray, but he's aware he doesn't smell that great right now. Maybe if he edges further to the side, he'll be in some considerable distance from the pretty lady. 

"You don't mind, do you, lad?" she suddenly speaks when she notices Sam distancing himself from her. "You don't mind that I sit here beside you, do you?"

It takes Sam a few seconds to register that she's asking him. "Uh, oh, I don't. I don't mind, ma'am," he fumbles, unable to look up at her straight. "I'm not the owner of this shed."

_I'm not the owner—_ Sam is sorely tempted to smack himself senseless in front of her. _I'm being stupid._

He hears her chuckle and it does something inexplicable to Sam's inside. "I thought so."

It's quiet between them afterward, though, in Sam's mind, it's a race of multiple thoughts such as the woman clearly not a local with her accent; he cannot pinpoint what accent it is but it's attractive; Sam can't stop looking at her; he's not supposed to talk to strangers like Dad and Dean keep reminding him, especially to adult strangers. 

"How long have you been waiting here?" the woman asks, effectively cutting through Sam's train of thought. 

"Um, not long. Ten minutes at least."

She hums, eyes darting to the books Sam carries. "Going to the library?" At his nod, she squints at the title of the Japanese book from Uncle Bobby sitting on top of the pile. She raises an eyebrow. "A study on _yokai_. Interesting."

"It's for research," Sam quickly excuses. "School, uh—" he pauses. "You can read Japanese?"

"Adequately," she answers with a slight smirk. She reaches for the book. "May I?"

Dumbly, Sam lets her get it and open the cover and turn the pages. She peruses the book delicately, and Sam has instant respect for people who treat books with care. 

"Let’s see,” she mutters, stopping in a single passage. “ _Onryō._ Vengeful spirits that can cause physical harm to the living or cause natural disaster to exact their revenge for the wrongs done on them while alive,” she reads. “It says here that they can only be stopped by letting them complete their goal or by performing an exorcism. To completely banish the spirit, however, burning and salting the bones of the dead works.”

Sam leans closer in interest. He knows about ghosts and the salt and burn, sure; it’s the most common thing Dad and Dean hunt. Still, can’t hurt to learn more, and the lady has a nice voice.

He shifts in his seat in embarrassment and meekly asks, “Is there a way to keep them away temporarily? Like… salt lines, maybe?”

“Having an issue with an _onryō_ , I take it?” she teases with a knowing look. Sam should pull away; it’s impossible to concentrate when he’s this close to her and even harder to hide his reddening cheeks. She giggles. “It does say here that salt lines or iron can work in a pinch. Either of which or a simple spell.”

Sam blinks. “A spell.”

She points at a single vertical passage of kanji that Sam doesn’t understand one bit. “This line says _umbra, abi_ when translated to Latin.”

“’Umbra, abi’,” Sam repeats absently. “That will work?” he asks curiously.

“I suppose we’ll never know unless we encounter an _onryō_ ,” she says with a slight smile. “Fascinating choice of subject for a paper, though.”

Sam catches himself and remembers that he’s a fifteen-year-old who thinks these are all fictional. “I’m partial to folklore. Asian in particular,” he tells her, which isn’t a lie.

“Personally, I’m more into the lesser-known pagan pantheon,” she shares. “Eastern lore is all well and good but the sources are very minimal.” She looks ahead distantly, reminiscing. “What I know of the Japanese folklore is from a short visit to a colleague who lives in Japan—much better and reliable to learn from a local firsthand.”

“Cool,” Sam can only say, maybe a bit breathlessly. 

He bites his lip, conflicted when he knows what he’s going to ask next is a terrible idea, but Dad and Dean say they’re pressed for time in finding and killing this _kitsune_. 

“Um, I don’t mean to further waste your time, ma’am, but I’d be grateful if you can help me with my paper. It’s due this Friday and I can barely grasp the basics of _kanji_.”

Sam anxiously lies, though in his opinion the apparent nervousness helps with his request especially when she regards him with a critical eye. Her painted lips twitch in amusement and she shrugs.

“I do need to kill some time,” she says. “Though I’d hate for these books and papers of yours to be laid open on a mere bench. We need a proper table.”

“The public library is a few minutes’ walk but not in this weather,” Sam says regretfully. “If you do have somewhere to be, it’s okay, ma’am.”

“Och, hush. I did say I want to kill some time,” she shushes him. She inclines her head and Sam has to double-take when he thinks her eyes are purple instead of emerald. “Don’t mind the rain, darling boy, it’ll let up in a bit.”

Sam might have focused too much on the fact that she called him ‘darling’ to notice the rain weakening to a drizzle.

“Shall we?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam scrambles to gather the books in his thin arms. He stands straight beside her and can’t help but note that he’ll be taller than her given a few more inches. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“If we’re going to work together on your paper, I think we can call each other by name, mister…”

“Oh, um, William,” Sam lies yet again. He’s warned about strangers, but, oh, well, avoiding her seems useless at this point. Sam is unsure whether he’s to extend his sweaty palm to her.

She decides for him, holding out her soft dainty hand to him that Sam has to shake for an acceptable length of time. “Call me Rowena, William. A pleasure.”

* * *

Sam pretends to need the other passages she reads to him while also taking down notes on some of the creatures featured in the book; Sam figured they might be helpful in the future.

Also, writing down is a good way to keep his attention somewhere else and not on Miss Rowena’s captivating eyes that can focus only on the book or Sam—the latter of which is terribly embarrassing.

God, he has to call Dean and ask him how to properly deal with this.

“How is your paper so far?” Miss Rowena interrupts her reading, leaning towards Sam’s side of the table. Wisps of her red hair fall down from her shoulder and Sam has to swallow and glance down. “You got everything you need, lad?”

_Keep your head in the game_ , Sam reprimands himself. “I only need one last info on a creature. Does it say something about a _kitsune_?”

Miss Rowena jumps to the last few pages of the book, running her finger on a certain page before murmuring an ‘aha’ under her breath. “ _Kitsune._ Literally translates to fox and was believed to be ‘witch animals’ during the superstitious Edo period. Shapeshifters who could transform into fox-like appearance with long claws and fox eyes when feeding or attacking. The heightened sense of smell also helped with their hunting.”

“Does it say how to kill them?” Sam asks. If Miss Rowena notices his peculiar interest in the subject, she doesn’t comment.

“The quickest way is to stab it in the heart with a knife,” she tells him. “But it says here that they’re known predators; therefore, to stab it in the heart, you either empower it or take it by surprise. Setting a trap will make sure you can kill it.”

“A trap?”

“The simplest trap requirements are a _shimenawa_ and an _ofuda._ A _shimenawa_ is an entwined rope of two long strips, the length varies on the size of the trap, while an _ofuda_ is a paper charm with a written potent spell on any white paper. When combined, those two are known for purification or indications of sacred space, that’s why they’re commonly found in a Shinto shrine.”

“What is the spell written on the paper?”

“A spell written in _kanji_ was the most effective, of course, but back then Latin spells by outlanders also worked,” she reads. “They said as short as _hoc capere creatura in_ worked for the paper charm.”

Sam scrawls the information and hastily stands. “I’m going to make a call, Miss Rowena. My Dad and brother—they’ll want to hear from me. If you’ll excuse me?”

He goes to the secluded shelves at the back of the library once Miss Rowena waves him away without any question and nary any confusion. Sam dials Dean’s number and relays his findings. He has to repeat it a couple of times to his brother due to the foreign languages involved and the need for Sam to keep his voice low. He gets scowls and shushing from the patrons and the librarian when his volume rises one time. Sam can only roll his eyes.

It’s not like he’ll be back here again anytime soon.

“Wait, Dean,” Sam adds before his brother can cut off the line. “I have… I have a question.”

Sam can imagine Dean’s eyebrow rising. _“Alright, shoot.”_

He won’t hear the end of it from Dean later, but, hey, no time like the present. “Um—Uh, how do you talk to ladies? Like, a proper talk.”

Dean laughs at the other line and whistles. Sam knows it’s already a bad idea. “Just stroll up to the girl. You know, introduce yourself. Trust me, girls your age are more flattered with upfront honesty.”

“That’s the thing, it’s not a _girl_.” Sam hears Dean take a pause. “I told you, a _lady._ ”

_“What’s the difference?”_

“It’s an older woman, Dean!” he hisses.

_“Older—oh, oh! Like a college girl?”_

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Though Miss Rowena looks like she’s out of college already. Sort of like a young teacher probably. “She’s older than me… than you.”

Dean is uncharacteristically quiet. _“Sam, forget it. She’s way too old for your game. I don’t know, what’s so hard with picking someone your age?”_

Sam rolls his eyes. Dean is making Sam think it’s too weird. Like Dean doesn’t check out older women as well despite them mostly treating him like a ‘cute little boy’ as one college girl told him.

In fact, it’s not like Sam is blind to his peers. He did spot one earlier upon their arrival to the library: tall, blonde, pretty but solemn face, arresting but suspicious eyes…

Not enough to take his attention completely from Miss Rowena, though. Miss Rowena who’s also smart and mesmerizing.

_“Okay, that’s enough, Romeo. I get it,”_ Dean interrupts. _“Geez, that bad, huh? And before you ask, yes, you said that aloud.”_

Sam’s cheeks reddened. Fortunately, he’s away from Miss Rowena. “Yeah. Whatever.”

_“Oh, Sammy. Look at you, having a crush. Doesn’t matter how old she is. It’s normal. Remember when I told you the first girl I liked was a librarian? I always have a thing for glasses since then.”_

“Eugh. Don’t remind me. You won’t shut up about it.”

Dean laughs. _“Then you also have a free pass to not shut up about this lady of yours. We’ll talk once Dad and I are done with this_ kitsune _. Later, Sammy.”_

They won’t be done for another two hours at least, meaning Sam has that amount of time to kill. 

"My Dad and brother won't pick me up until another two hours," he tells her when he returns to his seat. "Thank you, Miss Rowena, for the help. I took up your time already. I'll just wait here for them."

"And you're fine cooped up here?" she asks. "Books are good and all, but we should go out. Have you already eaten?"

Aside from the triple red eye earlier, no. Sam still hasn't. 

"Well, let's go then," she says gently at his silence. "I know a place nearby."

* * *

They haven't entered yet but Sam can automatically sense it's too fancy for his taste. 

Okay, so it isn't the five-star kind where you have to wear formal attire, but it's close enough. Miss Rowena looks like she fits in here while Sam is totally out of place. 

Miss Rowena must have noticed him hesitating. "Something wrong, lad?"

"Nothing, miss," Sam replies unconvincingly. "It's just that, uh, I've never been here. I don't… I might not know which fork to use for which." 

Dean says to be honest. He says to girls Sam's age but honesty is an appreciated virtue by almost anyone, Sam believes. He just hoped Miss Rowena is one of them too. 

Her face softens imperceptibly and she doesn’t raise a stink over it, moving on to a different location with Sam in tow. Sam’s partly embarrassed to walk beside her—not because of Miss Rowena but rather he knows he looks like her younger brother or nephew or her kid. They probably look weird to others. 

Not to Sam, though, not when Miss Rowena is smiling at him. 

It’s in a diner that she brought him, and now it’s Miss Rowena who looks wildly out of her element. Sam feels bad, but she simply winks at him and he’s convinced that she’s fine with the place. 

They serve veggie burgers and salads, and Sam doesn’t hold himself back from them. He has to eat healthy to grow up and fill out his wiry frame. He’s short, and it’s bad enough that he’s thin for his age. 

He’s very hungry that he forgets he has company. 

Miss Rowena merely looks amused and advises Sam to pretend she isn’t there. 

He’s polite enough to not chew when answering her, and that’s how it goes for the two of them: asking each other superficial questions back and forth. Sam… Sam never talked to someone like Miss Rowena before, someone who doesn’t treat him like a child and respects him if there are some questions he doesn’t like to dwell on too much, for example about his mom, though for that topic it’s more like he doesn’t know what to answer given that Mom died when he was six months old. What he knows of Mary is from Dean. Just Dean. 

Miss Rowena tells him that she’s been almost everywhere—Asia, Europe, Australia. She’s in the States most of the time for work. She doesn’t say what she does for a living, and she doesn’t ask what his Dad’s occupation is. They leave it at that. 

“Do you see yourself having the same work as your family?”

Sam stops and considers it. It’s a question he frequently asks himself but no answer to. He finds that it gets more complicated the older he grows, that it’s not a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ anymore. 

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully aloud for the first time. “What they do, it’s important, but at the same time, I don’t think I’ll like it in the long run. I’m not even like my brother. He loves what he does because he’s capable. He’s strong and confident. Unlike me.”

“You think you’re not up to snuff, is that it?” she asks knowingly. “I won’t judge that mindset of yours since it’s natural, but if you think you’re weak compared to your brother, then I’m going to ask you to stop. Think of it this way: you’re not your brother, and your brother is not you. You two are completely different people who have different strengths and weaknesses. You can be strong in mind and spirit, and it’s not any less than brawns your brother might have.”

Sam quietly takes in her words. It’s not often that he gets useful advice from adults. Uncle Bobby does like to educate him in life and in being the de facto researcher of the family, though Sam doesn’t often see him. He’s taking this now for all its worth. 

“Don’t rush growing up or you’ll end up missing the charm of youth, lad,” she tells him. There’s a tinge of regret in her eyes that’s gone as quick as it appeared. She waves it off with a light-hearted tone when she says, “You might be scrawny and not tall now, but who knows? In a few more years, maybe you’ll be a giant.”

Sam doubts that, but he’s grateful for Miss Rowena’s confidence in him. 

The hour easily passes between them. Sam thinks it helps that Miss Rowena isn’t a skeptic on the subject of the supernatural. She believes in the paranormal to some extent without dismissing the studies on them and Sam’s opinion on it as a teenager. 

She’s wise, intelligent, beautiful, and a good listener. It’s no longer surprising that Sam’s young heart is gradually slipping down a dangerously steep slope. 

It’s foolish, but Sam wishes he’s born sooner. 

And when he receives a call from Dean saying the hunt is done, Sam can’t help but think it’s unusually quick just when he finds a pleasant company. It’s unfair. 

“Done, aren’t they?” Miss Rowena says with a knowing look. 

“Yeah,” Sam mutters glumly. “They’re on their way. I should get back too.”

She nods in understanding, paying for their meal by beating Sam to it, much to his protest of sharing the bill. Sam follows her outside sedately, reluctant to go back. 

Outside the diner, there’s a parked black car that looks expensive. A man goes out to open the door and it occurs to Sam that it’s for Miss Rowena when the man in a suit nods at her. 

“My service is here,” she says. “I guess this is where we part ways, lad.” She sighs wistfully. “Be careful on your way home.”

“I’ll just go back to the motel we’re staying at,” he says. “It’s not… home, per se,” he adds like it’s vital that he does. “Take care as well, Miss Rowena.” 

Miss Rowena stares at him a second longer before leaning down to his level. “I haven’t been there myself for quite some time now. My home, I mean. Sometimes, I think I never have one,” she tells him sadly. “I’ll see you around again, I suppose.”

“My Dad moves around with me and my brother frequently so I don’t think—”

“I’ll let you in a little secret: I once told someone that I would see him in the future and… we did see each other again, in a way,” Miss Rowena says. “So I think we’ll see each other again too. Probably not soon. Maybe in another month or a year—maybe not for another decade. All I know is that we’ll cross paths again.”

Miss Rowena is so close that Sam hears his heart beating rapidly in his ears, his chest tightening and his face warming heavily. He’s too startled, however, to register that Miss Rowena kisses his forehead in farewell. 

“Miss Rowena!” he calls once he catches himself and she’s about to enter her car. She waits for him patiently to speak, kind of hesitant to leave. “My name is Sam. Sam Winchester.”

Miss Rowena smiles widely, her eyes twinkling and cryptically says, “I know. It’s nice to meet you, Samuel.”

Sam watches the black car until it's past his line of sight. Miss Rowena leaves, and Sam thinks she unknowingly takes his heart with her. 


End file.
